


helleborus

by toomoon (jjjat3am)



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Multi, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/toomoon
Summary: Maybe it's the eggnog, but boy, Youngjo could sure use a good hug.
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Everyone
Comments: 16
Kudos: 148





	helleborus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Just_All_Random](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_All_Random/gifts).



> This is a gift for Abeeb, for the Flower Moon Festival on twitter. Merry Christmas <3 I hope you like what I did with your prompt. I tried to make it as soft as I could.
> 
> Unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.

Youngjo sighs, sinking further into the couch cushions. The TV is a quiet drone in the background, stuck on some undoubtedly heartwarming Christmas movie. He squints at the screen, momentarily engrossed in a scene of the male lead confessing his love while the snow falls softly in the background. He sighs enviously, glaring at the window. It hadn’t been a white Christmas this year and the sidewalks are glittering in the streetlights, the kind of shine that calls for black ice warnings on the news.

It’s frigid cold outside, the air blowing in through a window someone had cracked open. The apartment still feels stuffy and too hot, steam fogging up the glass, the breeze helping little in terms of ventilation. It’s a little hard to breathe, though that could be from the amount of food he’d eaten and not the smoggy evening air.

On-screen, the happy couple are gazing at each other adoringly, slow dancing under the falling snowflakes. It is, Youngjo reflects, a scene Dongju would love. He can hear his voice from the kitchen, scolding with an edge of laughter underneath, overlaid over Geonhak's lower tones.

Officially, the two of them are washing the dishes. Unofficially, only Geonhak is there to wash dishes, having lost the game of rock-paper-scissors. Dongju is there to supervise, making sure that Geonhak does it correctly.

The whole thing is doubly ironic because Dongju was the one who insisted they eat tteokbokki and fried chicken off actual plates because, to quote, "it's Christmas and we're not animals".

There's a sharp burst of laughter from the kitchen. Youngjo can almost imagine them, standing next to the kitchen sink, bare arms pressed together, shy smiles lurking in the edges of their mouth.

He squirms in his seat with a deep sigh. The material of his hoodie feels scratchy and uncomfortable against his skin, but he also doesn't want to take it off, just like he doesn't feel like getting off the couch to close the window. He feels at the same time lazy and too wired, and it cumulates in a feeling that's bone-deep uncomfortable.

"Hyung? What are you doing?" 

Youngjo sits up, straightening the wrinkled material of his hoodie. Hwanwoong is looking at him quizzically. He's rubbing his hands together, probably having just applied hand cream.

Youngjo hears himself make a high noise in the back of his throat. He puts up his hands up, making grabby motions at Hwanwoong, who's looking increasingly puzzled.

"Come here," Youngjo says, finally, frustrated when Hwanwoong doesn't move. 

"What's gotten into you?" Hwanwoong asks, sounding both amused and worried.

Youngjo pouts at him, never mind that it's stopped working on Hwanwoong months ago. 

"Hug!" he says, gesturing towards himself and Hwanwoong laughs, shaking his head but he finally moves, close enough that Youngjo can grab at his hands and pull him in closer.

Hwanwoong sits down sideways on his lap, ankles crossed daintily and Youngjo buries his face into his sweater. Hwanwoong smells like his hand cream, which means he's been stealing it again. Youngjo should scold him because he doesn't want it to become a habit, but he's happy enough that Hwanwoong is letting himself be held.

Slowly, Hwanwoong lists to the side, his bottom slipping off Youngjo's thighs to land on the couch as he leans more heavily against him, legs still thrown over his lap. Youngjo can tell he's fallen asleep by the familiar cadence of his breathing.

He lets his mind drift for a while, pinned by Hwanwoong's weight. The movie turns into something Western. A child is being left at home alone by his family.

Just as he's starting to get invested, there's the sound of the key scraping in the front door lock and Keonhee's voice loud voice from the hallway.

"We're home!" Keonhee yells, almost singing the last word. Hwanwoong startles awake, immediately alert, conditioned by months of snatching sleep between schedules. His legs drop from Youngjo's lap and he has to suppress a pout. Seoho walks into the living room, arms laden with grocery bags, pink-cheeked and wind-swept, and complaining about the cold. In the hallway, Keonhee is still talking. Youngjo gets up on wobbly knees and walks past them as Hwanwoong starts unloading the bags onto the coffee table. 

"Your saviors have brought nourishment for you poor unfortunate souls," Keonhee is yelling, toeing off his shoes. He's still wearing his heavy winter coat and his hair is squished flat from his hat.

Keonhee turns towards Youngjo when he appears in the hallway. "Oh, Youngjo hyung," he says, "you wouldn't believe the ice on the roads-"

He gets cut off by the impact of Youngjo walking right into his chest and wrapping his arms around his torso under the coat. Keonhee is freezing despite his layers and the smell of smog has settled deeply into his clothes, alongside a sharp cold smell that Youngjo associates with winter.

"...right, so, the ice," to his credit, Keonhee only pauses for a moment. "There's a big patch right in front of the building and I warned Seoho hyung to be careful but he wasn't and he went flying into a lamp. He almost cracked his head open!"

Keonhee is at a nice height where Youngjo can lay his head down on his shoulder and close his eyes. He keeps talking and his voice rumbles pleasantly through his chest and against Youngjo's cheek.

"...and then the cashier said 'thank you' but he meant it more as 'thank you for leaving my store' but I get that, especially after hyung tried to juggle the cans of tuna." 

Keonhee's arms come up to wrap around his torso, clasped at the small of Youngjo's back. Like this, Youngjo tucked into his chest, the size difference is more apparent than it is usually.

"...actually, hyung, I'm all warmed up now. You can let go," Keonhee says. In response, Youngjo burrows closer.

"In a minute," he says.

"Okay," Keonhee agrees softly, "in a minute."

Surprisingly, Keonhee is quiet after that. Youngjo can hear him breathe, and the voices of their members in the adjacent room. Through Keonhee's layers, he can imagine that he just about hears his heartbeat.

A minute later, Keonhee presses a kiss to his hair and unwinds his arms from around him. His cheeks are a little red, and it’s not from the cold anymore, as he babbles something, hangs up his coat and flees to the living room, leaving Youngjo standing in the hallway with a dumb smile on his face.

He walks past Hwanwoong, Dongju, and Seoho sorting through groceries. Inevitably something from the list is forgotten and Dongju is mad about it, which means Youngjo goes unremarked upon as he slips past them and into the kitchen.

At the kitchen sink, Geonhak is furiously scrubbing at a pan. This is unusual because no pans were actually used in the making of their dinner, or in fact any meal they’d prepared that day. In fact, Youngjo doesn’t recall ever using that pot, but Geonhak seems determined.

Youngjo watches him quietly for a moment, before stepping closer, winding his arms around his middle and popping his chin on Geonhak’s shoulder. Geonhak doesn’t even tense up. He must have heard him coming.

“Hi, hyung,” Geonhak says softly, and Youngjo doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling, “what’s up?”

Youngjo makes an inarticulate noise under his breath and rubs their cheeks together, which makes Geonhak laugh. He puts the pan on the drying rack and Youngjo follows his movements, clinging. 

Geonhak starts cleaning a bowl and for a couple of minutes, the only sounds in the kitchen are those of running water and clattering cutlery. The front of Geonhak’s shirt is damp like he’d spilled water on it. He probably had. Even now, he’s scrubbing at the minuscule dirt with unusual vigor that means he’s definitely trying to use dishwashing as a replacement for his evening workout, though half of the pots haven’t been used since they moved in.

Geonhak is wearing only a T-shirt, the only one seemingly unaffected by the slight chill in the apartment. Even now, he’s warm like a furnace against Youngjo’s body. Youngjo hides a mischievous smile against Geonhak’s back. All it takes is waiting until Geonhak is preoccupied with scrubbing. Youngjo sticks his hand under his damp T-shirt and brushes his fingers against the muscles of his abdomen.

Geonhak lets out a startled sound and drops the dish he’s holding. It clatters loudly in the sink and they both hold their breath for a moment, waiting to see if it’ll break. In the ensuing silence, Dongju’s voice comes in loud and clear from the living room. 

“You better not be breaking any dishes in there, I swear-”

Youngjo starts laughing, muffled into Geonhak’s shirt and it sets Geonhak off too, the two of them giggling like naughty kids at the kitchen sink, Geonhak’s hands wet and soapy, and Youngjo’s under his shirt, fondling his abs.

Eventually, they calm down. Geonhak wipes his hands on a dishtowel and covers Youngjo’s hand with his, squeezing slightly.

“I’m almost done,” he says, voice a gentle rumble against Youngjo’s cheek. “Why don’t you go wait in the living room?”

Reluctantly, Youngjo takes his hand from under Geonhak’s shirt, smoothing the damp material down. “Fine,” he says, “but change your shirt after. You’ll catch a cold.”

“I never catch a cold,” Geonhak replies, even though he’d had a cold like two weeks ago. “I’m as healthy as a horse.”

Youngjo rolls his eyes and pulls away. He waits until Geonhak is holding another plate before reaching out to pinch his ass, escaping the kitchen just as he lets out an affronted yell.

In the living room, Hwanwoong is sprawled out on the couch while Seoho and Keonhee are fighting over what they’re going to be watching for the rest of the evening. Rather pointlessly. Dongju wants to watch Frozen and they always end up watching what Dongju wants in the end.

Dongju isn’t in the living room, so Youngjo heads to the bedrooms next, intending to find him before the argument in the living room escalates into yelling and they get another noise complaint. 

Dongju isn’t in the bigger shared bedroom when Youngjo sticks his head in. Dongdoongie is lying on top of the blanket, with Dumbo propped up against it and it makes Youngjo’s smile. He’s still smiling when he steps out into the hallway just in time to catch Dongju coming out from his room. Wearing Youngjo’s hoodie.

The sight of it makes something flip in his chest, just behind his ribcage.

“Do you not have your own clothes?” Youngjo manages. Dongju grins unrepentantly.

“Yours are warmer,” Dongju says. He tries to brush past Youngjo in the narrow hallway but Youngjo grabs him into a hug and Dongju goes without struggling. They’re the same height now. Dongju has grown up so much in just a year. He smells like Youngjo’s cologne. It’s a bit overwhelming.

“Hwanwoong hyung mentioned you were a little needy today,” Dongju mutters, but lets himself be drawn in further.

Youngjo cups Dongju’s cheeks in his hands and presses a kiss to his forehead with a soft smack. Dongju starts squirming and protesting, and Youngjo backs away a little, hopeful that Dongju won’t notice the way he’s trying to blink away tears.

No luck.

“Hyung, are you crying?” Dongju asks, suddenly alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

Youngjo shakes his head, a little embarrassed. His chest feels too full, overflowing with emotion and it’s awful that it’s their youngest, of all of them, that has to deal with him like this. 

Dongju makes soft soothing noises under his breath as he moves closer to him. The kiss is probably intended for his cheek since that’s Dongju’s favored attempt at comfort, but Youngjo turns his head at the exact same moment, to attempt to explain himself, and the kiss lands up in the corner of his mouth instead.

They both freeze. Dongju’s cheeks start to glow a soft pink in the light coming from the living room. Momentarily distracted from the enormity of his feelings, Youngjo tilts his head forward slightly, gratified by the way Dongju’s eyes flick immediately to his mouth. 

There’s a loud burst of noise from the living room and Dongju pulls back with a gasp. Youngjo watches him quietly, as he tries to regain his composure, offering him a soft smile when Dongju can finally look at him. 

“Let’s go back to the living room,” Youngjo says, gently and Dongju nods, still a little pink-cheeked, walking out of the hallway. Youngjo waits for a moment before following. 

In the living room, Geonhak is shirtless and arguing with Seoho about having to put on more clothes.

“I’m plenty warm!” he’s saying, even though his skin is breaking out in gooseflesh and certain parts of his anatomy are starting to look alarmingly perky. 

“You’ll freeze to death,” Seoho says, rolling his eyes, a grin pulling at his mouth. “I don’t care what you say, all those muscles aren’t an efficient heating system.”

“Or just drink some of that eggnog that Youngjo hyung has been taking swings from all afternoon,” Keonhee says, very unwisely getting himself involved in the argument. Youngjo spots the bottle among the snacks spread across their coffee table. The store-bought eggnog was an impulse buy that no one really liked, but Youngjo had made his way through most of the bottle in the last couple of hours. In hindsight, that might have been the source of his weird mood.

“It’s pretty strong,” Youngjo offers weakly, already planning to hide it from the rest. He’s never seen Dongju drunk before, and he suspects he’d get much bolder under the influence. He isn’t sure if any of them are ready for that.

Geonhak gives in with a huff and goes off in search of another shirt, probably just as flimsy as the other one was. As Keonhee and Dongju start another round of arguments over their movie selection, an argument that Dongju has already won because Keonhee wants them to watch Twilight, Youngjo realizes that there’s space free on the couch. Next to Seoho.

He tries to be casual about walking over and dropping onto the cushion. Seoho still eyes him suspiciously. Youngjo tries to divert his attention by calmly pouring himself another glass of eggnog. It’s thick and burns on the way down but Seoho turns away, distracted by Geonhak’s reemergence, wearing what could be described as an almost crop top. 

At Dongju’s insistence, they all settle down. Someone dims the lights and the movie starts playing. Next to him, Seoho relaxes his seat. Youngjo watches him, like a predator, just waiting for his opportunity. It comes about a quarter through the movie when Seoho is riveted enough to forget about his surroundings. Youngjo opens his mouth in a huge fake yawn. He stretches, raising his hands above his head, and then as subtly as he can, drapes his arm around the back of the couch. Seoho doesn’t even flinch.

Success.

It’s like approaching a skittish animal. Youngjo inches his arm slowly down, centimeter by centimeter until it drops around Seoho’s shoulders. 

Seoho goes rigid. Keonhee gasps loudly as Hans betrays Anna, and does his best to crush Geonhak’s arm, which he’s got in a death grip. Youngjo counts the seconds until, finally, finally, Seoho relaxes, cautiously pressing into the contact. Youngjo lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He’s grateful for the dark because no one can see the silly smile on his face.

It’s Christmas, and Elsa is on-screen letting it go. He’s got his arms around Seoho’s shoulders, and on his other side, Geonhak shifts occasionally as Keonhee gasps loudly at scenes he’s seen at least twenty times before and keeps accidentally climbing into his lap. Youngjo has to be careful not to move his legs because Dongju is leaning up against them, a sleepy Hwanwoong’s head pillowed on his lap. He’s a little bit too warm, and the material of his hoodie feels scratchy, but he can bear it. 

It’s Christmas and Youngjo can’t be with his family, but it’s okay because he still gets to be with the people he loves the most. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [twitter.](https://twitter.com/leewoong)


End file.
